


Because

by Natashasolten



Series: Pennsylvania Series [15]
Category: Wiseguy
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Pennsylvania series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-28
Updated: 2011-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-28 09:06:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natashasolten/pseuds/Natashasolten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sonny's a handful but the sex is great.  This time it's Vinnie's pov.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because

Over the six months they’d been living together in Pennsylvania, Vinnie had observed a few things about Sonny’s sleep patterns.

Unless he wore him out, unless Sonny was completely exhausted, Sonny’s sleep was restless. That was normal.

After Sonny had been diagnosed with PTSD, the restlessness increased, of course. He sometimes woke fighting or gasping, not knowing where he was. A lot of times he thought he was still back at the Rialto dealing with Vinnie’s betrayal. Once, he’d sort of sleep-walked right into the rainy yard, looking for Vinnie. That had been really weird. And Sonny had nightmares. Well, who the fuck didn’t? But Sonny had more than his fair share. He decided that for most of it, Sonny didn’t even remember. But Vinnie slept with him. Vinnie was there. And he saw it all.

There were so many times, too many times to count, when Sonny thrashed and moaned, called out in his sleep waking Vinnie. To hear that made Vinnie feel a strange, pent-up guilt. He knew what Sonny was dreaming. It couldn’t be anything else. Sonny dreamt of the betrayal, of the Rialto. There was a reality in Sonny’s head where he had lost Vinnie for good. And that reality existed in the day and night they spent locked up in that dark, old theatre fighting and talking and drinking and arguing. That reality was finite. It had a beginning and an end. There was no sequel, and no happy ending. In that reality, Sonny had faced and met his match. Sonny had lost the fight, lost his world, lost his lover, lost his life. The new reality began when Sonny woke up. But that was a different Sonny and from then on the universe had altered. The old Sonny still remained locked in the Rialto beaten, defeated, deceived. The old Sonny still sat in the dark shadows of a forlorn past with muted strains of a song playing in the background… just what I’m going through they can’t understand… lost and alone, nursing a mangled heart that could never be repaired, waiting to die.

Vinnie didn’t have to be psychic to know all this. So when Sonny’s sleep-muffled moans and gasps woke him, he learned that if he moved over him, put his arms around him and waited, Sonny would go quiet in seconds without ever waking up. And if he held him for the rest of the night, Sonny would barely move. The restlessness abated. The nightmares disappeared.

Once in awhile Sonny would waken, grumble a little about Vinnie’s weight, sometimes even ask Vinnie if something was wrong. But Vinnie didn’t answer. Usually, he just kissed him, curling himself tighter against that taut, wiry body, and fell back to sleep. Sometimes Sonny turned slowly toward him until they were so close they were breathing each other’s air, and then they would make love, slow and sweet.

Those were also the times when, if Sonny was feeling particularly morbid and temporarily immune to Vinnie’s kisses, he would ask Vinnie the strangest questions. Like, how could Vinnie ever love someone like him? Or, how in the world could Vinnie stay with someone who was such a fuck up?

“Fuck-up” referred to several things. The PTSD. The nightmares. And the fact that not only had Sonny been a killer when circumstances called for it, he’d gone and done his one last parting-shot killing before a live video feed that Vinnie himself had rigged in the room where the bachelor party took place. Sonny had lost. Game. Match. Set. All to Vinnie. Vinnie had proven himself to be the smarter and the stronger. Sonny had proven to be the “fuck-up.”

But Vinnie didn’t see it that way. He only saw in his memory how carefully and shamefully he had tricked Sonny. He only saw how easy it was to use Sonny’s love for him to gain the upper hand, to manipulate him, to bring him down. Sonny may have committed crimes, may have lived a life of risk, gamble, illegal gain all of which would eventually lead to being taken down by the law or others of his own kind, but it wasn’t because he was a “fuck-up” at what he did. His crimes were deliberate, not fuck-ups. In fact, Vinnie could not deny that he himself was a killer. He’d killed on duty. And he’d shot Lorenzo point-blank after that lunatic imposter had raped Gina. In that regard, he was no different from Sonny when circumstances called for that kind of action. No, where Sonny went wrong was when he fell in love with Vinnie. That was the fuck-up. And if that was the case, then Sonny was anything but a fuck-up. Otherwise, their love was the most colossal fuck-up of all, and Vinnie refused to believe that for even one second.

So one night, when Sonny wakened shaking from his nightmares and turned to him and said, “How can you even stand me? I’m such a fuck up,” Vinnie felt at first that horrible, painful pang of conscience, then a strong, devoted protectiveness that rose up like hackles on his skin from his legs to his torso to his neck. He wrapped his arms tightly around Sonny, who’d already begun to squirm, and said very softly, his teeth almost gritting at his frustration, “I know you don’t believe me, or you wouldn’t keep asking me these stupid questions, but I never felt this way for anyone before. Ever. Maybe some day you’ll believe.”

As he spoke, Sonny’s eyes narrowed. He reached up and touched his fingers lightly to Vinnie’s temple. “I want to believe you. But I’m me.”

Of course, “I’m me” meant “I’m evil” and “I’m not good enough for you” and “I’m bad and you’re good so this won’t work.”

Vinnie could do any number of things at that point. He could just tell him to hush, shut up, go back to sleep and quit being stupid. He could bend Sonny back and make love to him and try to prove his utter, breathless devotion. Or he could continue to argue.

Now he said, “Yeah, yeah. You’re you. I’m me. And this is. Just because.”

“Just because?” Sonny asked, sounding almost snide.

“Yeah.”

“That’s not a reason. Or an answer.”

“So?”

“So?” Sonny mimicked. “First you say ‘because’ and now ‘so.’ What are you, eight?”

The room was dimly lit from a bright, almost-full moon outside. Vinnie watched Sonny’s velvet brown eyes blink through the shadows. Those boyish beautiful eyes. Then he watched Sonny’s mouth as he spoke, the pink lips pressing, opening, forming words. Beautiful. Sonny’s dark brown hair was pushed forward by sleep onto his forehead making him look even younger. The body in his arms was warm, tight, smooth. The skin of Sonny’s back against Vinnie’s palms was like satin.

Christ. What could he say? ‘So’ and ‘because’ was about the extent of it, because Sonny was so beautiful to him that sometimes Vinnie felt like he was coming apart.

Vinnie concentrated on the man in his arms, the feel of him, the heat, the love of his life who still didn’t believe he was, in fact, the love of Vinnie’s life. He said nothing.

“Because because because…” Sonny murmured, half-singing it.

Vinnie closed his eyes, inhaled the spicy sweet scent of Sonny’s skin, skin he loved to touch, to taste, skin he loved every single inch of. Sonny was half-turned away from him and Vinnie breathed against his shoulder and neck. He raised his head until his nose lightly touched Sonny’s dark hair, and breathed that scent as well. It smelled faintly of tangerine.

Sonny turned slightly in his arms, saying, “You fallin’ asleep there? Cause this is important, this conversation.”

Vinnie thought: No, it’s not. My lack of love for you does not exist. Therefore this conversation is not only unimportant, it’s unreal.

But Vinnie said nothing.

Sonny shifted again. “Hey, you.” His hand came up. Touched Vinnie’s cheek. He felt fingers card through his hair. He did not open his eyes.

Now Sonny moved more, until he was chest to chest with Vinnie. Vinnie could feel his breath in his face, spicy-sweet. Sonny’s hand was still in his hair. His other hand was at Vinnie’s side, palm sliding slowly down toward Vinnie’s hip. Vinnie’s cock stirred. Sonny obviously felt it, because he said, “Aw, you can’t go to sleep like this.”

Sonny’s hand stroked his hip-bone. Vinnie felt tingles on the skin there. His cock jerked. Sonny said softly, “You’re so easy.”

At that, Vinnie opened his eyes. Sonny was staring down at him, almost smug.

Vinnie blinked. “I know you don’t believe me.”

The smug expression dropped from Sonny’s face. Sonny stared at him, that open vulnerable stare that in the past had often scared Vinnie when it cropped up as they were meeting mobsters and hitmen for dinner.

Sonny moved against him, thigh brushing his now almost fully erect cock butting against his shorts. “I want to believe you.”

Vinnie blinked, started to look away. Sonny’s hand moved to his cheek, then his jaw, holding his head in place. “Just don’t say anything for once.” He stroked Vinnie’s unshaven skin. “Just don’t even try. You try too hard.”

Vinnie felt tears start. The criticism was so intimate.

Sonny frowned. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant you don’t have to do anything to make me love you. Babe, it’s me who needs to try harder.”

Vinnie started to shake his head.

“Shh! Don’t.” Sonny’s palm pressed harder on his face. He leaned forward and kissed Vinnie lightly on the lips. “Let me do this. It’s my turn.” He kissed him again, lips open, slightly damp. “My turn,” he breathed into Vinnie’s mouth. Vinnie’s mind swirled.

Sonny was naked against him, burning. For a long time, he kissed Vinnie. Sonny kissed so beautifully, so thoroughly. Vinnie’s blood raced under those kisses. His arms clamped around Sonny, holding him close.

Finally, Sonny pulled back, kissing his jaw, his shoulder. One hand pushed between their bodies down, down until it was inside Vinnie’s shorts. Sonny moved back to his knees so he could use his other hand to push Vinnie’s shorts all the way down even as he continued to stroke him, making Vinnie gasp.

Vinnie kicked the clothing away.

Sonny took his hand away, stroking Vinnie’s thigh. “Now,” he said, almost whispering, “spread your legs.”

Vinnie felt himself smile and frown at the same time as he moved to obey. Sonny knelt between his thighs, lowering himself slowly, and they were kissing again. Their hard cocks pushed together.

It was…god…lovely.

Then Sonny let up, hand on his cock again, then lower, touching, teasing.

Vinnie wanted to flip him right then, grab the lube, but Sonny already had it, and was already using it, fingers sliding behind Vinnie’s balls to his ass. Vinnie realized then that Sonny had turned the tables for real. That Sonny was…Sonny was…

He said aloud, “Are you going to fuck me?”

Sonny said, “Shh. Don’t talk.”

Vinnie disobeyed, and chuckled as he said, “But it’s been so long. Do you even know what you’re doing?”

Sonny leaned forward, and Vinnie could see he was trying not to laugh as he kissed him again, then let up and pointed a finger at his face. “You! Be good! You’re good at that, right?”

Then the finger Sonny pointed at him disappeared and Vinnie felt himself stroked, caressed, petted, then slickly opened.

“Fuck…” Vinnie stretched his whole body, bucking up onto that finger. “You’re gonna… you’re gonna…”

“Yeah yeah,” Sonny said wickedly. “I’m gonna, in your language, make love to you.” Vinnie almost laughed again because Sonny rarely used those words. Those were Vinnie’s words and they usually made Sonny roll his eyes or say “get fucked.” Now Sonny leaned down and kissed him as Vinnie’s body reacted, two fingers inside him and opening him more. He kept kissing him until Vinnie’s eyes were glazed, full.

Vinnie wasn’t laughing anymore. He was too turned on.

Sonny leaned back on his knees looking at him, taking his fingers away. His other hand touched Vinnie’s cock, wrapped around it gently, then just held it. “God you’re so beautiful,” Sonny breathed.

Vinnie felt his skin heat at the words. He blinked, swallowed. For once, in bed, he was mute.

Sonny smiled at him, then leaned forward and positioned himself, one hand on Vinnie’s cock, one between his legs holding him open, gently exposing him.

Vinnie felt Sonny slide partway in, stop, watch him. But Vinnie was ready for him. There was no pain. He may have teased him, but he trusted him. Sonny was always so good to him, sweeter than he’d ever admit to being, too.

“Okay,” Sonny said, starting to breathe harder. “Okay, babe.” He moved, sliding in some more, and Vinnie lifted his long legs and wrapped them around his waist as Sonny thrust all the way in, groaning, inhaling through clenched teeth.

Vinnie felt him inside to the hilt and it was completely, totally wondrous. He knew Sonny preferred to be on the bottom. And really, Vinnie loved to fuck him more than anything. But this…this was so nice. Different. A change. Sometimes that was what was needed. Something you didn’t even know you needed. To be cherished. To be held. To be made love to.

As a “top,” Vinnie thought of himself as “taking.” He made up for it by giving Sonny coaxing, sweet, nasty words, giving Sonny blow jobs. But this changed his mind, because Sonny was giving, he was receiving, and he was loving every bit of it. He realized now that Sonny saw him as giving, always giving, and Sonny wanted to give some of that back.

It was indescribably delightful. And how attentive to him Sonny was!

For once, Vinnie leaned back and let Sonny do all the work.

Sonny was amazing. He was gentle but decisive, agile and strong. Just because Sonny might prefer, most of the time, to be the “bottom,” no one could ever call him “passive.” Sonny’s blinding enthusiasm and love literally cemented their relationship. He pushed in and out of Vinnie with increasing skill, perfect tempo, and an angle that stimulated Vinnie’s prostate beyond mere pleasure and into the realm of pure gold ecstasy. Sonny’s hand stroked him in time with his thrusts and Vinnie arched up, pulling Sonny closer. Sonny obeyed, hand still between them, and leaned over to kiss him.

The kiss possessed him. His mouth opened and consumed and was consumed. Sonny’s tongue danced inside him as his cock opened him up even more, tuning him to some kind of vibration that set his body afire. The fire quickened fast. His hips came up, his body tensed, froze. He couldn’t breathe for a long moment, paralyzed on some precipice of intense pleasure that stretched and stretched until finally everything inside him seemed to snap and he came hard crying out as Sonny’s mouth captured his sobs. The hand on his cock was tight and slick as he jerked, the orgasm pulsing from him in layered throbs, destroying him over and over again four, five, six times. The fullness of Sonny inside him made the pleasure ignite, tingle and remain even after he was spent.

Sonny moved faster now. Vinnie tightened his legs, his body so slick now, and Sonny so perfect in performance. Sonny drew up, head thrown back, eyes sliding up, voice low and desperate: “God. Fuck. Oh god.”

He came as Vinnie held onto him, coaxing him with his internal muscles, wanting everything he had to give.

Finally Sonny collapsed on top of him, turning to kiss him more slowly now, the luxury of lip on lip caressing, sucking, licking possibly even more intimate than what they’d just done. It was a gesture of such affection that Vinnie thought he might never get enough of it.

They turned onto their sides, facing each other. Vinnie said, catching his breath, “God Sonny, how can you not believe me?”

He felt Sonny’s hands at his back curl into fists, almost scratching. Sonny’s legs tensed against his. And Sonny said, voice low and almost matter-of-fact, “Because I’m a monster. Because I deserved to die.”

Vinnie pulled his head close and said, “And what do I deserve? Huh?”

“Anything you want. Happiness for sure.”

“And now you’ve answered your own question. That’s why you’re here. I brought you here. I want you. I’m happy with you.”

Sonny stared at him unmoving, unblinking, those brown eyes intent, open, all the hard edges of the past shimmering to softness, and to that familiar and utterly devoted look that made Vinnie go hot and cold at the same time, stomach fluttering, heart pounding. Then Sonny said softly, lips almost touching his, “Babe, you’re an angel. I don’t know where you came from, but I’m a fool to question it.” Then he kissed him sweet and long, sucking on his lips, his free hand coming up to Vinnie’s face, holding him there, fingers combing back his hair, petting him, loving him.

Vinnie felt completely undone.

Finally, he pulled back. Without a word he settled into Vinnie’s arms sharing his pillow, face pressed to Vinnie’s neck. Silence enveloped them. With the after affects of ecstasy still coursing through their veins, lethargy claimed them, pulling them down to a slow, deep, restful sleep.

There were no more nightmares for the rest of that night.

*


End file.
